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Crying? Grendel nearly paled at the thought. For some reason, he had never considered the fact that they might and likely would cry. "I do not want them to cry." He said with a frown, and that frown was then directed down at the baby in his arms, as if he could will his newborn son to never cry just by giving him a look.

He felt Ravnos take his hand and he looked back at him with a questioning gaze as he began to tug him over to where the chair was sitting. The strange chair that rocked when you sat in it. The one he had obstinately refused to sit in before.

And now Ravnos was telling him to sit in it. He might have sighed a little, and given him a look that said 'must I?', but he turned around and did what he was told, as he oh so slowly and with great care, sat down in the chair that rocked, and then eased himself back into it, trying very hard not to make it move beneath him.

There. He was in the chair. Everything was fine.

"Wait, n--." The protest was cut short when Ravnos thrust a second baby at him, startling him into nearly getting out of the chair as he sat forward, but that sudden movement made the chair shift beneath him and he went stone still, a baby nestled into each arm as he looked up at the Disciple with rising panic.

How could he do this to him?

And then it got worse.

At first, all Grendel could do was stubbornly sit perfectly still in the chair, even while it was being rocked forward and back from behind. However, eventually, when he realized it wasn't all that bad, he began to relax, and let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"I feel ridiculous." He said out loud, however, as he finally began to rock the chair on his own, using his feet to push the chair back and forth as instructed.

It was true. They would not stay this small for long, and time moved swiftly for immortals, and especially so for Gods. What might take days, weeks, or even months would go by in what felt like mere moments. It was with this thought in mind that the God glanced down to the baby in each of his arms, in how they were snuggled in against him, and how both seemed quite content to be there. How long could this moment last?

He felt that same little twist in his chest from before, but his gaze shot back up when Ravnos spoke again, eyes following him as he got closer.

"Are you planning on going somewhere?" He asked, lips rising in a small smile that grew when Ravnos placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Okay." He gave a little nod of his head. "So long as you know you are allowed to leave, whenever you want. I would not keep you trapped here." He had thought about that many times before. Of course, he would miss him if he left, but they both knew who he was. A wanderer. A traveler. It would not feel right to ask him to stay.

Besides. The God would be happy to wander with him, should it come down to it. He could find someone else to look after things for a little while. There was always his sister's daughter.

Of course, Grendel had no idea that Ravnos was going through any kind of identity crisis.

He pondered the question for a moment, what Ravnos had said about them not staying like this forever had struck a chord inside of him. "Maybe in a few more moments." His low voice rumbled.

"I would not ask you that." The God smiled though because Ravnos's words warmed him. Knowing that he would stay for him if he wanted him to? Well...it was a very nice sentiment. "You belong out in the world, not trapped in a temple the way Caine would have had me. Whenever you want to leave, just say so, and will join you." A small pause, and a grin. "Well, if you would have me."

He supposed he should not assume.

Still rocking the babies gently in the chair, the God smirked at the Disciples words. "Yes. Until they begin to fuss. Then you can be the 'pro'[ for a while."

The smile slipped and Grendel looked up at Ravnos. He recalled that night and all of the events that had transpired. Had the God killed a young child? Yes...but Ravnos had also left him alone and had not explained to him that it was not allowed.

And then there had been the woman in the Disciples bed. Grendel's eyes darkened just slightly at the memory. "I make no promises, because depending on certain situations, it may be necessary." He responded and his voice was even.

"I will, however, promise not to eat any more Romani children."

There. He admitted to it.

Grendel had fallen silent after that, lost in his own thoughts, eyes going a little unfocused as he looked away from Ravnos. Yes, the mood had shifted significantly in the span of seconds, and at that moment he did not want to say or do anything more to make it worse.

He did not even realize he had stopped rocking in his chair. He barely even noticed the two small bodies nestled in his arms. It was not until the little girl began to squirm that he remembered, his eyes blinking and refocusing with a start.

She let out a loud cry and he winced, the sound tearing through him and making him immediately feel as though he had done something wrong. Of course, once she started, the other began to move as well in response, letting out its own, small fussing sounds, though not nearly in so loud of a way as his sister.

His eyes sought out Ravnos's again, the faint edge of panic had begun to return. "Could you take one of them, please?" He did not specify which, he only knew that he would have an easier time dealing with one crying baby over both at the same time.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved that Ravnos had taken the girl. She had been much more squirmy, and a lot louder than the boy. Even now, he was moving around, kicking at his blanket and making small, unhappy sounds, but he did not cry. He was finding other, less loud ways to show that something was amiss.

Since he was still sitting in the chair, Grendle carefully moved the boy to his lap. He had watched Ravnos wrap them and thought he had a good idea on how to redo it, now that the baby had nearly kicked the blanket free. He wrapped him back up smoothly and lifted him to rest on his stomach against Grendels chest, a large hand supporting the back of his head.

Again, it appeared that paternal instinct could kick in, when necessary.

"So, how do we feed them?" Grendel asked because he still expected Ravnos to have the answers.